


Exiles of Asgard

by bioticgoddess



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 08:33:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13994484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioticgoddess/pseuds/bioticgoddess
Summary: Kind of a sequel to Ward of Asgard.Filling in the three almost four years of space between Thor: The Dark World and Thor: Ragnarok. There will also be a few chapters set during Ragnarok that deal with Loki and Althea specifically. Just like their cousin chapters in Ward of Asgard.





	1. Chapter 1

**_Exiles of Asgard: Introduction  - Heimdall_ **

 

The Gatekeeper stood near the podium in the Bifrost gate. He ran his hand over the sheath for his great sword. The great sword – only his weapon and gungnir were capable of unlocking the Bifrost. With a heavy sigh he spoke, “I know you’re aware of who sits on the throne.”

“I am,” Althea replied softly.

The golden eyed god continued, “He is surprisingly effective at governing Asgard when unchallenged. But I swore my oaths to Odin not to your husband. I cannot, however, in good conscience continue to serve when I know there is a…pretender upon the throne. When the nine realms are again sinking into chaos and he does nothing.” This was hard for Heimdall, harder than he cared to admit – to step down from his role as the Bifrost’s Gatekeeper and guardian. His last duty had been opening the bridge to allow his sister, Sif, to return after her altercation with the Kree on earth. At least Odin – Loki – had seen them as a threat. If nothing else, the pretender had an interest in keeping Midgard safe.

Althea climbed up the stairs to the keyhole, walking around to face Heimdall. She’d protected all of them from any repercussions under Loki’s rule. Not that he’d been particularly concerned with penalizing any of his former friends. “Heimdall,” the elf began, “You’re the only person we can truly trust with the Bifrost.” She paused, “You’ve protected every single one of us. More than once.”

He chuckled. “That is true, my young friend,” this meant leaving his friends, his kingdom, and everything he’d ever known. “I know that this will brand me a traitor, but it’s the right thing to do.” Loki’s illusion had worked against him for over a year, clouded his vision but only when it came to the current king. What he wanted to say was that he appreciated her honest. The fact that the Silver-Tongued God’s wife had lied. That he had appreciated the friendship she’d shown him over the years.  “No my princess,” he said, “Until either Odin or Thor returns, I cannot do this.”

“And who will be here to open the Birost to them if not you,” she asked quickly.

Hanging his head and pulling off his gilded horned helmet, “Someone else I fear. Though I trust you will keep our king on the proper path. I know it was you who reigned in a great deal of his …plans.” He meant the statue, the plays, everything that effective martyred and sainted Loki. Dead or alive, his actions on Svartalfheim earned him some measure of honor and affection from Asgard but things had gone from reasonable to self-serving in short order.

She nodded. Heimdall had been on guard at the Bifrost since she was a child, not much beyond a child himself actually. Taking the role from his father after his mother passed away during a skirmish with the dwarves of Nidvallir. He’d missed the wedding between his father and Sif’s mother, missed the girl’s birth, and later naming ceremonies out of a sense of duty. That this place was both his burden and his sanctuary. Even after the battle between Thor and Loki destroyed the gate itself, he’d taken up his post on the shattered Bifrost. He sighed heavily and turned to Althea, “Unless you know where Odin is, and can return him, my decision has been made old friend.”

The elf took a step towards him, nodding. “You’ve never been one to let even Loki sway you.”

“Indeed. And I have given my life to this,” he motioned to the chamber around him, “Should real need arise, should the realm need me as well as what friends I kept, then I will return. You have my word Princess.” With that he bowed his head. “I trust you’ll bring this to our king?”

Heimdall turned the blade of the key sword towards himself, the hilt pointed at the elf. With a heavy sigh she nodded, “Of course.” As her hands wrapped around it, Heimdall took a number of steps back.

“Farewell, Princess,” he bowed his head again, practically disappearing out of the Bifrost chamber.

She sighed as he walked off, “Good luck old friend.”

–

In his guise as Odin, Loki demanded, “What do you mean Hemidall has abandoned his post?”

“Not abandoned it my king, he has…resigned,” she corrected carefully.

Brow furrowed, the gray-haired Asgardian practically glared at her. “I see.” The Warriors Three and Lady Sif were present, he couldn’t just drop the illusion and have a regular conversation with Althea (who avoided the throne room at all cost, despite the reunion she and Loki had had months earlier). Clearing his throat, Loki-Odin sat back in the throne – deliberating the fate of the now former gate keeper.

Heimdall had been correct  - these actions made him a traitor. Though it did give Loki an excuse to place a more friendly party, or at least one less loyal to Thor, at the Bifrost’s gate. “This is most unusual,” he said after what felt like hours. “However,” He looked at Volstagg and in the usual bluster of the All-Father continued, “Until a more permanent replacement is found, I charge you – Volstagg of the Warriors Three – with the care and guardianship of the Bifrost Gate.”

The red-haired goliath of a man stammered, bowing low to Odin, “I am honored my king.” Recovering, he crossed to Althea. She still possessed Heimdall’s sword, a burden she was almost happy to be rid of and somewhat visibly relieved to be passing on to Volstagg. At least he was competent and trustworthy. Sword in hand, he bowed again, “My lord, I shall go to the Bifrost Gate at once.”

Odin bowed his head, dismissing Volstagg. Hogun and Fandral followed suit and trailed off behind their friend.

“Daughter,” he spoke, that word like bile in his mouth, “If you would excuse us, I should like to discuss her brother’s disappearance with Lady Sif.”

The shield maiden protested, eyes wide, “My king, I would think it best if the Princess stayed.” She was quick, not giving either the monarch nor her effective advocate time to do anything but breathe.  

Exasperated he acquiesced, even the real Odin would have been too tired to argue at this point in the affair. “Very well.” He nodded to her, watching the shield maiden breathe a sigh of relief at the action. “Did you have any knowledge of your brother’s intentions, Lady Sif? If so, when did he mention them to you and why did you not bring them to your king? Or at the least, my daughter.” Again that word was like bile.

Careful in her choice of words, Sif answered the All-Father’s questions. “Heimdall and I have never been particularly close. That aside, if he had told me of whatever turmoil led him to decide to abandon his post, I would have forewarned you immediately my king,” when Odin nodded, she continued, “My brother is the most stouthearted Gatekeeper the realm has known in ages. I would not have let him leave without doing anything in my power to prevent it.”

It was true. They weren’t close. 

Heimdall was decades older than his sister, their mothers different women and he had taken his post before she was born. The All-Father asked if Sif knew where her brother may have gone – was he merely hiding or had he left the realm. Did he have a lover he might go to? She had no answers for him on those or any questions he asked about the gatekeeper.

Inevitably, Althea stepped forward, putting herself between Sif and Odin. “My king, she knows naught where her brother would be nor why he left. She has said so numerous times. Nor did Heimdall himself provide any clue as to where he would go when he turned the key sword over to my keeping.”

“Then it is with a  heavy heart that I must declare Heimdall a traitor to Asgard. Should he be found, or return, he will be punished  accordingly,” he shook his head. To Sif, it looked as though he were truly aggrieved to declare Heimdall a traitor. Althea knew better. “Lady Sif, you may return to your duties,” he said after a moment.

Sif bowed, taking her leave.


	2. Exiles of Asgard: Sif

**Exiles of Asgard: Sif**

“Sif! Sif,” Althea called, chasing down the shield maiden. In the weeks since Heimdall’s departure, she’d been increasingly recluse. Avoiding both the palace and its grounds – staying out in the city that spread around the feet of the palace and into the hills.

She turned sharply, head inclined and eyes narrow, “What do you want?”

Her tone startled the other woman. “I wanted to see how you were doing. It’s been weeks since,” she trailed off. Despite not being close, it was evident that Sif felt her brother’s absence acutely.

Almost annoyed, she grabbed the elf by the arm and halfway dragged her into the small dwelling that served as the shield maiden’s home. Kicking the door closed behind them, Sif released her friend’s arm and walked towards a cask of mead. “Drink with me,” she asked, tone wholly changed.

“Of course,” she accepted. “But the note you left in my saddle implied it was urgent we speak.”

Pouring them each a tankard she started, “I’m leaving.”

“What?!”

She continued, ignoring her friend’s shock. The elf could hardly say this was unexpected after Heimdall’s own flight. Setting the drinks across from each other, she motioned for Althea to sit. “Odin has changed, you can’t tell me it’s gone unnoticed. You live in the palace.” Her silence was answer enough for Sif, “I don’t know if it’s grief from so much loss or some attempt to call Thor back to take the Throne. Or if it’s something else entirely but something is wrong.”

“Then stay and help put things right,” Althea offered, shifting in the chair at Sif’s table. “I can only do so much alone, Sif I need you.”

Dark hair waved back and forth as she shook her head. “You’ll not dissuade me Althea. This has been a long time coming, since we lost Frigga I think. I…I need time. I need to reevaluate where I belong.” Her words were practiced, like she’d rehearsed this conversation countless times. Her eyes were downcast into her drink, “In the years that I have served the Throne, I have lost a great deal, friends, lovers, and family.” It was clear that she missed Thor most of all. Everyone knew she harbored a deep and unrequited love for the elder of Odin’s sons.  Well, everyone except for Thor – he seemed oblivious to it despite Odin having practically spelled it out for him.

Several minutes passed and not a word was spoken between them. Then, setting her meade down, Althea began, “Where do you plan to go?”

“Vanaheim, my mother was born and raised there and I may still have family there,” she explained, “If not, it’s not as a though I’m unaccustomed to being alone.”

“Yes but you’ve always had one of us within easy reach if needed,” the elf countered. Sif nodded in agreement.

Swallowing a sip of her drink, she added, “Which is another reason that it is important I do this.”

–

Sif had her pack sitting against the lower stair of the pedestal to activate the Bifrost. Volstag had his hands on her shoulders, tears welling in the older warrior’s eyes, “And you’re sure we can’t convince you to stay?“ He cared about her like the younger warrior was one of his children.

She smiled, nodding. “Yes, I’m sure. While I’m gone, do me a favor and keep those three out of trouble,” she nodded to Hogun, Fandral, and Althea.

“I don’t cause trouble,” Fandral protested, brushing some of his blonde hair from his face. Immediately, Hogun and Althea turned and glared at him like they’d just heard something ludicrous. Without missing a beat he regarded the pair and continued, “Well I don’t! Trouble finds us.” He was almost indignant about the presumption.

“Maker’s breath,” the elf grumbled, face-palming.

Sif laughed. She would miss all of them.

“At least keep from any grand adventures without me,” the shield maiden said after a moment, fighting back tears. Their group, always together in the best and worst of times was incomplete now. One prince dead and one gone Midgard – not even Odin could say if Thor would return. And her brother now gone into hidden exile.  Even so, leaving her family behind hurt more than she could say. If she cried now, she might not go through with this and she knew that going to Vanaheim was what she needed. Not her king, her prince, or anyone else.

Hogun chuckled, nodding at her.

“No promises,” Althea said, fighting her own tears back.

Then, from the back of the room, Odin spoke, “Sif, you need not announce your return. When you are ready, Asgard will be here for you just as your friends are now. You have been a loyal warrior and provided earnest counsel. This will always be your home.”

She smiled and nodded at him, “Thank you, my king.”

After a round of hugs, Volstagg placed the sword in its slot at the top of the podium. The Bifrost gate building began spinning rapidly – the bridge’s portal flashing to life as the bridge came alive. With a final look over her shoulder at those in the room, she stepped through to the Bifrost and on to Vanaheim.

 –

Loki disappeared into the chambers he and Althea shared, though all anyone saw was the Elven princess and a handmaiden. He’d had the cleverness to shelter in an unoccupied corridor and change his cover before any could corner the All-Father. Door closed, the illusion disappeared - well - his voice returned to its normal tones at any rate.

He wrapped his arms around the elf’s waist, kissing the side of her neck, “Well that was unexpected.”

“It shouldn’t have been, Sif has felt alone for a long time, even before her brother took his leave,” she countered, her hands running over the sorcerer’s arms as they squeezed her tight. Fingers making their way from elbows back to wrists she felt Loki’s arms change back to those of the Prince. Even without looking at him, the elf could imagine his longer black hair - neglected under the image of the All father. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes that had formed thanks to secrets shared with the Elf. 

He nodded, pressing his lips to the crown of her head. “You were always closer to her after…well, after that first adventure we all embarked on.”

“You mean that business with Thrym,” she nodded, wriggling around in his arms. Green eyes locked with grey ones she continued, “And you took the same guise,” the elf couldn’t help but laugh. 

He smiled, relieved and amused, “You  **do**  remember it.” 


	3. Exiles of Asgard: The Wedding Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is based on the Lay of Thrym. If you're not familiar, I suggest you take a look at it on Wiki. Enjoy.

Long ago…

 “How exactly are you planning to explain this to father,” Loki asked, running his hands through his short black hair.  As Thor vomited for the third time, the other Odinson had to stand and take several long strides towards the balcony of his rooms. His brother was definitely hung over, painfully so for Loki to bear witness.

Belching, Thor glared menacingly at his little brother. Face pale, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed, he grabbed a goblet of water and took a swig. Audibly he swished the water around in his mouth before spitting into the bucket containing the contents of his stomach. “I do not,” he belched again, “Require your patronizing tone, brother.”

“Just because I’m not drunk doesn’t mean that I’m patronizing you,” he shot back, taking deep inhales from the mint that Althea had insisted they grow in planters on his balcony. Had the best light, she’d said, and – at this moment – he was thankful to have its smell. It mitigated that awful acidic and half-digested smell that permeated his once clean sitting room. Closing his eyes and taking a deep inhale of the herb he said, “I am asking because you know father is going to want an explanation about why you no longer possess Mjolnir. And we both know that there’s no avoiding him either. If our father, the All-Father, wants to know something -”

Thor sighed heavily, spitting more water into the bucket, “Then he’ll find out what he wants to know. Yes, I am aware of this Loki.”  His patience with the green and gold robed god was wearing thin. Though the mint leaves being shoved in his face were a welcome change in smell and, as he greedily stuffed two in his mouth, taste. “Thank you brother,” he mumbled.

“Thank Althea, she insisted it be grown here,” he countered, regarding his brother cautiously. His eyes narrowing, Loki repeated his initial question, “So how do you intend to explain this to father?”

Before Thor could answer there was a loud banging knock on heavy double doors. A moment later, one of the Einherjar opened the door. He spoke, “The All-Father summons you both – Prince Thor, Prince Loki – to the throne room. You’re required to appear immediately.”

“Looks like you’ll find out when he does,” Thor grinned wryly, chuckling as he wiped more spittle from his fledgling beard using the edge of his cape. A confident, stalwart expression cemented itself on his face. It spoke volumes about Thor’s ability in combat and his status as Asgard’s next king. Loki, however, knew better. He knew that at the moment his brother was terrified. Odin would not be pleased, to say the least.

Swallowing, Loki muttered, “Fantastic.”

The pair dragged themselves from the sitting room in Loki’s rooms. Adjusting themselves, the pair made the long trek towards the throne room. Even with their father seated on his throne in the centre of the palace they could feel his eyes on them in the corridors. It was unnerving. Pushing the doors open, Thor bellowed, “Father, you summoned us?”

“What in the name of my father Bor did you do! How in the nine realms do you lose the mighty hammer Mjolnir! You are unworthy of being called a warrior, let alone a Prince of Asgard!” He wasn’t asking, he was demanding. It’d be a miracle if he stopped yelling at Thor – and Loki by association – long enough to get an explanation from the blonde. “How dare you return to Asgard without it! And you,” his attention turned to Loki, “You! It is your responsibility to ensure that your brother does not make a fool of himself and this Realm!”

When Frigga rested a hand on her husband’s shoulder, looking at her eldest son – disappointment filling her face, Odin relented. The old king sang into his throne, voice heavy, he demanded, “Tell me how you let this happen Thor.”

“Well, Father, we were celebrating our victory over the renegade dwarves and their siege weapons. The great show of strength and courage from our warriors,” Thor began, eyes darting between both his parents and his sibling. Loki, by contrast rolled his eyes. Quickly shooting his brother a dark glare, Thor continued, “I was served a drink potent enough to send even Volstagg spinning. Unbeknownst to me, it was more than any Asgardian could drink. Before I knew it, I was passed out – slumped over the table like when we were children first learning to drink. When I woke, Mjolnir had been stolen from my side!” Quickly he continued, before Odin’s rage filled face could turn to words, “Loki has even volunteered to help find it.”

 Eyes wide, blinking in disbelief and shock, Loki stammered, “I what?”

“There will be no need for that,” snapped Odin. “The Giant who stole Mjolnir, Thrym, has made an offer regarding the return of Mjolnir. One that I am loathe to grant him since he only has the hammer thanks to the arrogance, stupidity, and hubris of my eldest son.”

The looked between one another,  Loki spoke, “What does he wish of Asgard, father?” His words were deferential despite the patronizing hand raised that silenced Thor.

“He has demanded the hand of Lady Sif in exchange for Mjolnir,” he paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. Loki understood why his mother looked so disappointed in her sons as the surprise crept across his face. By contrast, Thor’s reaction was almost immediate. His eyes darted around the room, panicked and his words melted into little more than outraged grunts. Oh yes, he was certainly his father’s son. Then in hit Loki, a plan to redeem his brother and have a little fun.

Regaining his composure ahead of Thor, or even their revered mother, Loki spoke quickly, “May I make a suggestion father? A way to get the a hammer back without sacrificing our dear friend Sif.” He had to fight the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It didn’t matter that he’d had no role in this debacle, if he got too excited about this then he would be blamed for the disappearance of Mjolnir and this Thrym’s plot to wed Sif. He continued, following Odin’s gesture to do so. “Perhaps we could give this Thrym what he wants.”

“Loki! You would abandon –“

“You did not let me finish brother,” he hissed, “No, I was thinking that you and I might go on her behalf. Say as if we were the Lady Sif and her handmaiden.” Silence fell thick over the four. “It wouldn’t be  complicated magic to make Thor appear as Sif and I could easily be perceived as a handmaiden. And the Warriors Three could come along as her escort. It would be the perfect ruse.”

–

 Thor hissed at his brother, adjusting the dress – it was uncomfortable at best and chaffing at worst. Not to mention embarrassing for him to wear, “Why did Mother and Father agree to this?” Turning to Althea and Sif, the elf adjusting the latter’s hair, “How do either of you…do anything in these!?”

 “Because it was clever, and we just do” Althea giggled, hands clamped over her mouth as she tried desperately not to cackle madly. Sif wasn’t having as much luck as the Elf – both were going along as additional handmaidens for SIf’ stand in. Loki used one of his shapeshifting spells to make himself appear female - and stolen a dress from Althea. Her wardrobe had the widest variety of gowns and most were more forgiving. Especially when all three - Loki, Sif, and Althea - would need to have weapons of some kind tucked away under the gowns.

 Sif swatted feverishly at Althea’s hands as she finished knotting and braiding the other woman’s hair. Thanks to the her actual handmaidens (and Queen Frigga), Sif’s hair had been colored a shade of blonde-red and her makeup done in such a way that she didn’t look like herself. She looked more like a sibling or other relation of Fandral - on any other day that would have made her skin crawl. Today, however, she was thankful for the disguise. It was far better to play the part of a handmaid who may/may not be kin to their womanizing friend than it was to be ransomed as a bride to a giant.

 “Well then,” Loki said, his voice going from his usual timbre to a falsetto closer to Frigga’s tone. All three of his companions turned their heads so quickly they nearly hurt themselves. Eyes wide, he wasn’t sure surprise was the correct word to describe the shared expresion. “Oh like none of you have ever seen me pretend to be a woman or speak as one before,” he said waving it off as he walked away.

 Sif regained her composure first, “Um, no, I’m afraid none of us have seen…this…” She waved her hand at him in circles, voice trailing off.

 “You as a woman is quite the sight brother, but Sif you’re mistaken my lady, he used a similar guise to sneak us out of Nornheim the last time.” Thor was grinning, ear to ear.

 —

 Accompanied by the warriors three, “Sif”  and her wedding party made their way to Nidavellir for her wedding to Thrym. The giants living in the Dwarven realm circling the small group of Asgardians like vultures. Loki and Althea stood close together, combining small spells to keep the giants from coming too close. All the while disguising Thor as Sif while the shield-maiden-herself stood close behind the Elf.

“Ah,” Thrym hummed when the six Asgardians entered his halls, “The lovely Lady Sif! How I have longed to see you again!”

Elbowing her brother in the side, Loki hissed, “Remember what we practiced…my lady.”  She forced a smile that, despite being absolutely on edge, looked serene and natural. Only the god of mischief could claim such skills.

Thor, by comparison, fumbled and stumbled over his words. The magic of Althea and Loki making his voice sound like Sif’s. “Thrym, how wonderful to be in your…um…magnanimous presence. You are a…a…um…”

“A warrior of greater strength than even Mighty Thor,” Loki’s voice echoed softly in Thor’s ear. She hovered by her brother’s side, leaning close to give some illusion of modesty on the part of both Sif and her retinue. It also allowed her to feed lines to Thor whenever necessary.

Despite his disguise, the elder Odinson wanted to glare at his brother. For once, however, he knew the deception was necessary. Forcing the most girlish giggle he could, Thor continued, “A warrior greater than even Mighty Thor.” It made him want to vomit. Correction, to punch someone and then vomit. - It took everything the others in the Asgardian retinue had not to laugh. Though Volstagg did have his ever impressive beard to hide in.

A grin spread across the giant’s face and he motioned for “Sif” to come sit beside him. Robotically, she did just that – handmaidens in tow. On cue, composure returned, Volstagg spoke with a level of performed deference usually reserved for formal audiences with Odin, “Master Thrym, the All-Father has met his portion of your marriage contract request. We would humbly request that you reciprocate with the presentation and return of Mjolnir as it is sorely missed in Asgard. Just as you would miss Lady Sif’s radiance were she not here.”

Both Sif and her decoy glared daggers at the practiced politician.

Roariously he laughed, leaning over the arm of his chair farthest from the bridal party he pulled the hammer from a compartment in the alter table. “After the ceremony,” He chuckled darkly, laying the hammer across Thor’s lap. They could all hear the spears and longswords being drawn by the giants around them. “After all, we wouldn’t want my lady to be absconded with now would we,” he ran the back of his hand along Thor’s cheek as he spoke.

The group held their breath as Thrym smiled almost lovingly at Thor – never once suspecting he wasn’t Sif.

 “No, we would no,” the disguised shield-maiden snapped as Thor wrapped a hand quickly around Mjolnir’s handle. Before she could take the sword, wrapped in ribbons and scarves, from where it was secured at her back the very daintily dressed Asgardian Prince called down a blast of Thunder and LIghtning. Hilariously graceful, Thor moved with Mjolnir as he struck out at Thrym - sending the Giant flying headlong into stone pillar. His tribesmen, startled by the revelation that Thor stood before them all froze in place.

 A few laughed at the sight of him in the gown. Everyone saw the lightning flash in Thor’s eyes and the rage bubble into his face and voice as he roared and brought further electric fury down upon them. As tended to happen in situations like this, when the Asgardian Heir’s temper took hold, and everything went to shit.

 — 

In Asgard’s healing rooms, wrapping bandages around Loki’s bare midsection Althea snapped, “I am not explaining this to your parents.” Her words were directed at Thor.  
  
“But I -”  
  
“No! No! No! You can explain why that gown is charged to bits, your brother has three broken ribs, lady Sif a broken arm, Volstagg’s beard is burned off, and why Fandral has a burn along his back! I am not going to be the messenger of this folly Prince of …of…Sparklers!” The elf had not only raised her voice, but was yelling. It echoed off the vaulted ceilings as her eyes shonw like angry embers over Loki’s shoulder when she glared at Thor.

Thor’s mouth flapped open and closed a few times, eyes wide and blank. “I…um…uh…ah…um…very well,” he stammered, slinking off towards the throne room with Mjolnir clutched in his hands.


	4. Exiles of Asgard: Odin

He had ruined all of them.

There was no one else at fault, no one else to whom the actions could be directly traced. The last few years stranded on Midgard had given him clarity once Loki’s enchantment had broken.

The small cabin looked out over an expansive field of tallish grass that swayed in the Norwegian wind. It reminded him of the ocean, just out of view. The northern country was everything he remembered from his last visit to Midgard during the war with the Jotunns. None of the substance had changed, only the aesthetics. Both the people and the place were as welcoming and bright as he remembered. In some ways this was what he envisioned Valhalla was like, in deed if Frigga had been there then he may have believed it to be Valhalla.

An image of Frigga, perhaps a trick of the mind, stood in the grass. Her lips were pursed, brow furrowed, and hands on her hips – it was a pose she’d taken a thousand times before. Shaking her head at him, long blond curls danced back and forth. “I even ruined you,” Odin muttered, tears running slowly down his cheeks. “My Queen, you should…” The emotion jumped from his chest to his throat and choked his words.

He’d ruined his sons despite vowing not to after all that had transpired with…her.

From a young age, he had placed great expectations and numerous responsibilities on Thor, too quickly both as a child and a man. It should have come as no surprise when the boy fell into the trap of ego that led him to combat Laufey and nearly incite a second war with Jotunnheim. But the exile to Midgard had made him a good man. And, despite aiding the Avengers, Odin had tried to excise a part of that when he sought to ban Thor’s involvement with Jane Foster. Attempting to drive Thor into Sif’s arms, she would truly make a fine Queen – a shield maiden as Frigga had been. But he should have known that Thor would never betray his heart. How could he if Odin would not have done the same in his stead? Even when Thor went to Svartalfheim to destroy the Aether, he should have seen how much like his parents Thor had become. Determined as Odin but wise as Frigga.

By comparison, Loki had all of Frigga’s cunning and magic balanced by his Odin’s diplomatic talents. The boy was a politician and diplomat, his skill with words had proven that over the years. After all, he had helped persuade the Elven High King to allow him to wed Althea. And he knew, for all their sakes, told the boy where he came from. Should have prepared him for that, for what it meant. He was stronger than Odin had ever truly given him credit for and felt more deeply than was possible. He should have told Loki that he was a worthy son. It wasn’t his only failing as father. He had, before Loki’s spell ensnared him, been relieved to hear his youngest died an honorable death in battle. It was only the last moments of lucidity that he had seen the truth of it.

He’d discouraged sibling rivalry with one breath then fostered it with another. It should have been no surprise that Thor and Loki grew apart as they’d aged. Odin had, in some ways treated Loki more like a tool than an son. And Thor as his own inevitable replacement to be molded in his image. Only to see it turn into outright battle by the time they were adults, yet his son still had a great capacity for empathy and forgiveness.

Pulling a heavy knit throw blanket off the back of his chair, Odin felt like an old man for the first time. Felt the eons of his life and rule creeping along behind him like a shortening shadow. The laughter of his children and Frigga’s touch were like beacons on the shore, growing dimmer as he moved farther away.  He had betrayed them. Betrayed the vow made to Frigga after they lost…her.

The image of Frigga, even if it was just at trick of the mind or a projection of his grief, gave him one of the kindest smiles she ever had. Her arms folded across her chest, hands resting lightly on her biceps. If she could speak what wisdom would Frigga have shared with him now? What comfort? “I failed you my Queen,” he whispered, looking past the figment for a moment. Even she looked down at the wooden porch before her gaze returned to Odin’s face. “Everything after Hela…I…”

His voice died in his throat and chills ran up his spine. Even now, his first born clawed at her prison walls. She raged against her bonds and her power – greater than it should have been - was like a meteor hitting the sea. He’d made her Queen of Hel and used his power to keep her sealed within the realm of the realm of the dead. But he could not keep her there forever and he refused to burden either son with their sister’s fate. Though, as he felt her lash out again from worlds away, he wished there had been another option. Had she not been without and deaf to reason perhaps there would have been. Sadly, however, not even Frigga – who had always been beloved to each of their children – could reason with the enraged girl when she turned on Odin.

“I swore I would not repeat my mistakes with our sons,” he whispered, the figment of Frigga fading into the soft light of dusk. “And I failed you.”

As if she were seated beside him, her words echoed in his ears, “ _You did not fail me and there is yet time to make amends with our sons. Thor will certainly forgive you and, given time, so will Loki. Your love for them never faltered._ ” The words may have eased the ache in his chest but it did nothing to calm his fears. Even so, it was good to hear Frigga’s voice again no matter if it was his mind beginning to play tricks on him.

He’d watched it with Bor, his own father, a few thousand years after the defeat of Svartalfheim. The way Bor would seem to be there in body but otherwise gone, like his mind was failing him. Only now, as he experienced, he suspected he walked half in the land of the living and half the path of the noble dead. He and Frigga had been wed a few dozen years by the time his father began down this path. He suspected there had been visions of his mother the same as he saw Frigga. “I ruined so many,” He whispered, eyes heavy with sorrow and self-loathing that had developed over the years, “Yet the Norns see fit to let this old god into Valhalla?” The amused smile that flashed across his face was followed almost immediately by relief.

It was short lived.

At the farthest edges of his perception he could hear Hela’s threats. Her dark promises:  _I will destroy all that you love old man._  

They were grandiose at best but at worst, if she ever returned to Asgard then she could do it. Asgard, the nine realms, all of it would be brought to ash. That she could succeed was his greatest nightmare and not one he would be around much longer to prevent. It would be up to his sons and their allies – Gods help them.

He would hold out, hold on for as long as he could but he knew it time was against him now. Even if he returned to Asgard and went into the Odinsleep it would only be a delaying action at best. 


End file.
